


danver 2021 collection

by chaosdunk



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Neck Kissing, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosdunk/pseuds/chaosdunk
Summary: A collection of small DanVer Week 2021 pieces.
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Trust

Vergil only flinches a little when Dante presses his lips to his brother's neck. 

He's long since learned to not be offended. It's not that Vergil doesn't want it, not by a long shot--it's just difficult to shake off that immediate, animalistic need to protect such a vulnerable part of himself, vindicated by a lifetime of violence. The first time Dante tried to kiss his brother's throat, he ended up cratered into his bedroom wall with Vergil's claws embedded in his gut, a half-wild look in those flint blue eyes. 

Dante always announces himself now, and these days it's not nearly so bad. A lot less instinctive murder, a lot more full-body shudders. Dante buries himself in the warm cove of Vergil's neck, sucking a bruise into the pulse point. He can feel the wild flutter of blood so close to the surface, the frenzied beat of Vergil's heart; gently, so gently it drives even himself wild, he scrapes his lengthening fangs along the long column of Vergil's throat. 

He knows why Vergil lets him do this even while every instinct is screaming to tear him apart. No one else could ever get so close. A warm hand twines into his hair and pulls him back down; Dante swallows up Vergil's whimper and lets himself fall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Predator

Sometimes Vergil looks at him like he’s a piece of meat.

It’s mostly okay. Kinda hot, even. 

Somewhere along the line the wires in his brain for sex and violence got tangled all to hell. Nevan, Echidna, Lucifer—every single demon that’s ever hit on him made him fight for it first, like some stupid immature flirting but with way more murder, and it’s no surprise Vergil is the same way. 

It’s a sweet pain when Vergil drives Yamato into his chest, pinning him to the bed. Blood halos out underneath him, staining the sheets—Vergil twists the blade and watches with laser-focused attention as Dante writhes. The smell of ozone lights up the air as scales feather down Vergil’s arms in a partial trigger; he traps Dante’s wrists in one massive wingclaw and settles himself atop the hard line of his brother’s cock. Growling at the hot burn of friction, Vergil grinds down like he wants to tear an orgasm out of Dante by force. 

His lips chewed to bloody ribbons, Dante drags Vergil down for another devouring kiss. 

It’s not so bad letting himself being prey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Knight

When Lord Mundus next visits the nameless man chained in the web of thorns, he brings something new with him.

A ruby pendant, glittering in the low witchlight of the prison. It’s innocuous, but beautiful. Simple, but perfect. 

He shouldn’t want it as much as he does. 

The man cannot remember his name. Even this has been taken from him. But looking at the pendant stirs something within him, the faintest whisper of what he’s lost, and he would give anything to get even the corpse of those memories back.

_—the acrid smell of smoke and fear—  
—the give of flesh beneath his sword—  
—the echo of a desperate voice—  
—a grieving hand that reaches out—_

The man cannot speak. This, too, has been stolen from him. His voice has long since been destroyed from screaming; there is no way he can beg. 

Instead, he gathers up what little strength remains in his shattered body and forces himself to kneel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Ruins
> 
> content warning for alcoholism/excessive drinking

Dante blearily stares at his bottle of whiskey. 

It's supposed to be a good year. Or was it a bad one? He can't remember what the client said about it, but honestly who really gives a shit? It's not like anyone can actually taste the difference. Dante pours himself another glass and swallows it down. 

Lady grabs at the bottle, which makes him fighty for a moment with the fear she's going to take it away, but he settles down once he sees she's pouring herself some, too. 

A whole year since Temin-ni-gru. Fuck. Normally he'd jokingly poke fun at Lady for the way she's holding on to her rocket launcher, but he's got a death grip on an old, torn-up glove, so who's the real idiot here? 

Stupid Arkham. Stupid Vergil. Stupid Dante, and Lady, and family and feelings and every horrible little demon gene in him that's oppressing his right to get well and truly blackout drunk.

It's just a bad night all around.

Dante doesn't bother with the glass this time; he just raises the bottle to his lips and starts to chug.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Unrestraint
> 
> content warning for gore/implied fantasized guro
> 
> i can have little a giltony, as a treat,

Tony is so beautiful like this.

Desperate. Wild. Cornered like an animal, reckless with grief, teetering on the edge of destruction. Collapsed to the ground, Tony bleeds from a dozen wounds, arms and legs shredded into uselessness, chest blown open by a shotgun blast. The soft tissue glistens in the low light of the Cellar, his healing unable to keep up with the sheer amount of trauma that’s shocked his system, and the sight of the exposed meat fills Gilver with a frenzied, nameless hunger. 

Guns are such distasteful things, leaving no room for a personal touch like a good blade, but he can’t deny results. 

Tony’s fingers scrabble for purchase against the floor as Gilver stomps down; the crunch of bone and scream of pain only drive him higher. It would be so simple to take Tony apart. He’s practically been begging for it. The acid scent of fear and weakness fills the air in invitation--Gilver wants to split him open groin to sternum, crack open the shell of his rib cage, cradle that beating heart and pulp it in his greedy hands, over and over and over again like Prometheus chained to the rock. 

Did Tony really think he could just move on? 

Gilver wants this to _hurt._

He jams the shotgun against Tony’s exposed guts, stroking the trigger and wishing it was something else entirely.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - Anxiety

Demon senses wake Dante the moment his mattress dips under a sudden weight. _Intruder. Threat. Danger._ Ordinarily he’d be halfway out of bed by now, his sword materialized in hand in a blaze of fire, but the scent is warm and familiar and he forces himself to calm. 

"Mmzuh? Vergil?"

"Don't you dare say anything."

"I wasn't gonna."

He stirs in his nest of pillows and blankets, sleepily shuffling over to make some room. It wasn’t always this easy—sleeping together in the underworld was a fraught and complicated thing, with Dante unused to sleeping around anyone else and Vergil unused to sleeping at all. Too often they’d woken with swords drawn or hands around a throat or power gathered halfway to a trigger. Being so close after so long apart was an encroachment that made their instincts snap and bite, threatened by each other’s power, but Dante’s never been much for letting himself be ruled by demon bullshit.

Warmth bleeds into his back. Dante stills, breathing in the dark as a body carefully curls against him. It’s not often Vergil comes to him like this, unsettled after a lingering nightmare, and a wrong word or move will be enough drive him away. No questions, nothing that can be misconstrued as pity, don’t even dare to be too kind.

Hah. Vergil and his pride. 

An arm gently winds its way across Dante’s, fingers coming to rest in his while a heavy weight settles over his waist, the sleek slip-slide of scales tightening ever so slightly as Vergil’s tail coils around him. Air tickles the back of Dante's neck as Vergil buries his face into the nape and breathes in tandem with him, and this close it's impossible to miss the way the tension bleeds out of his body as they fall into easy synchronicity, the way they always should have been.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - Sacrifice

Never in his wildest dreams did Vergil ever think he'd be with Dante again. 

What they have now is something raw and new, so delicate the slightest mistake could shatter it. A truce bound in fragile trust. It feels like a waste to destroy it so early, before their wounds have even begun to heal, but the Qliphoth towers above them, forcing open the link between man and devil, and something needs to be done. 

“I'm more than capable of handling this on my own," he says. It’s an out and offer both. 

Dante wants to be human. Being trapped in the underworld would kill him, slowly but surely—even if they ever manage to escape, the Dante that leaves won’t be the same as the Dante that enters, a death by any other name. Even in the depths of his most selfish, violent longings, Vergil knows he would never be happy there. He’s too soft, too human, a weakness Vergil would despise in anyone but his brother. 

But in his brother, that weakness is something worth protecting. He did it once, at the end of a blade. 

Someone needs to stay behind. For Dante, he'd do it again.

"You're gonna need some help... And someone to keep an eye on you."

There's no rancor in Dante's voice or voice. No hidden reprimand. Only an acceptance he never thought he'd hear, and this time Vergil knows he won't have to face hell alone.


End file.
